I’m a bad friend.  I don’t listen very well.  Just so you know, if you are contemplating a friendship with me, I will blatantly ignore your requests; I will dismiss your wishes as ridiculous, even if they are for your birthday.

Yesterday was the birthday of a dear friend of mine.  We’ve been friends since the early days of wrestling with the complexity of writing Arabic script.  Our friendship has served to help us survive through language school frustrations and culture shock despairs.  It’s been like a reverse homecoming when they returned to our city for a temporary time; the universe has sighed, for all is as it should be again. I, of course, was more than delighted to be invited to join her in her birthday celebrations.  She insisted that her deepest wish was to treat us to a homemade Indian feast, and she all but punched me in the face when I offered to help her.  And then she did the unthinkable.  She refused cake.  I know, right?! I’m shocked too!  How can you refuse cake?  It’s unthinkable!  I said, “At the very least, let me make you a cake!  It’s haram to not have a birthday cake or to have to make your own cake.”   But she continued to rebuff the offer of sweet goodness, ending the conversation with, “I leave it to your conscience.”

Leave it to my conscience?

Leave it to my CONSCIENCE???

Oh, sister.  You have no idea the state my conscience is in.  As the day went on, my conscience and I were in constant talks.  We debated back and forth and finally, my conscience wrestled me to the ground and threatened to hock a loogie into my face if I didn’t make a cake. How can you argue with such a formidable force with instruments of torture at its fingertips?

I HAD to make the cake.  I really didn’t have a choice.

And do you know what?  I’m glad I did.  Because like I said, it’s shameful not to have a cake on your birthday.

That’s all my conscience has to say about that.

Happy birthday, K!